Never Cry Wolf

  Sarah leapt to her feet. “And you’ll really be able to save him? He’s got silver in his blood. The bullets fragmented and—”

  “Already know that.” The thin shawl slipped down her shoulders another few inches. “If your man didn’t have such a strong spirit, Death would already have him.” Those cloudy eyes closed. “Felt his spirit long ago, when he came after my Maya. Knew he was coming, long before he set foot on my land.”

  Maya. The name clicked. Maya Black was a vampire in LA. Powerful, kick-ass, and rumored to be mated to an equally powerful shifter.

  “Strong spirit,” the mambo whispered again. “Spirit wants you, charmer. He’s not making this easy.”

  No, Lucas wouldn’t.

  Marie’s eyes opened and fixed unerringly on her. “If Death takes him, you want me to bring him back?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, almost choking her. “How bad you want him to stay with you?” Marie pressed, blind eyes watching too closely.

  “I don’t—” Back from the dead? This was too beyond her experience. You can’t do that. That was her instinctual response. No, that was the way she’d been raised to think. But the truth was . . . vampires bit their prey, demons played with fire, and she controlled wolves. “I just want him to live,” she whispered.

  “Maybe he will.” Marie rose, her long hair fluttering around her. “Maybe he won’t.” Her smile was gone. “Either way, I’ll be collecting what’s owed to me.”

  A chill slipped down Sarah’s spine. “Save him.”

  Marie’s head inclined. “But there’s no saving everyone. No matter how you fight, Death will still be there.” The candles flickered. Marie’s hands fisted. “When the time comes, tell her to let go.”

  What? “Um, tell who?”

  But Marie just smiled her small, tight smile.

  The candles flickered again, a wild, desperate dance, and the shadows in the room lengthened as Marie began to chant.

  “This is a bad idea,” Dane said, his shoulders brushing Piers’s as they faced off against the men and women blocking the entrance to Marie Dusean’s house.

  “It’s the only idea I had,” Piers growled back at him.

  Their claws were out. Claws and teeth were the only weapons they had. Normally, that would be enough, but with Marie—

  If half the stories floating around about her were true, claws and teeth wouldn’t even scratch her skin.

  Dane threw a glance over his shoulder. Lucas barely seemed to breathe. The stench of silver burned Dane’s nose. Dammit, this was not the way the alpha should have been taken out. Not for—

  Me.

  His breath hissed out. “He shouldn’t have made the trade.”

  “Wasn’t him,” Piers said, not looking his way. Piers had locked his gaze on the big Haitian with the seen-the-devil eyes. “Sarah went for the trade.”

  Grunts reached his ears. Frantic, wild. Muffled. He turned his head and caught the golden gaze glaring at him. Her. Hell. He couldn’t just leave her bound and gagged. Not forever.

  When hell had come calling at that coyote slaughterhouse, he’d grabbed the woman. Human. As far as he could figure, anyway. He’d heard the screams of the coyotes, smelled the blood, and knew that a war had broken out. He’d tossed the blonde over his shoulder and held tight as he fought his way out of that nightmare. He’d gotten away, mostly in one piece.

  And he’d taken her with him.

  He’d thought they might get information from her. Thought they might be able to use her.

  Her head twisted toward the line of men and women in white, and she mumbled something behind the gag.

  Hell. He leaned into the van and yanked out her gag.

  “Are you crazy?” she whispered. “Do you know where we are?”

  “He’s dying.” That was all that needed to be said. If they had to trade with the devil, so be it.

  She gulped. “Marie won’t help you for free. There’s always a price.”

  “Then we’ll pay it.”

  “Even if she wants wolf pelts?”

  His fingers brushed her delicate jaw. “He’s not dying.”

  Her gaze seemed to bore into him. “You’re playing with some serious fire.”

  “For a human, you are, too.”

  He caught the flicker of her lashes. Ah . . .

  “Bring the wolf.” The voice boomed into the night.

  Dane spun back around. The big Haitian had stepped forward. “Marie will take him.”

  He caught sight of Sarah’s hair then, blowing in the breeze. A breeze, shit—where had that come from?

  Sarah ran toward him, her face stark white. “She’ll help us!”

  Hot damn.

  “Piers, Dane, bring him in!”

  Carefully, he and Piers lifted Lucas. The alpha’s head hung limply and his eyes never opened.

  They’d taken four steps when he heard the crunch of gravel. Dane glanced back. The woman—still didn’t know her name—was outside of the van, and the ropes were at her feet.

  “Don’t go in there!” She stared at the line of white with narrowed eyes. “Don’t trade with her—just let him go!”

  She meant let him die.

  No.

  She shook her head and backed away slowly. “You already have enough enemies after you. Do you really need more?”

  “Get out of here, Karen,” Sarah said. “This call isn’t yours to make.”

  What the hell? Sarah knew her?

  Karen turned around and ran into the night.

  Dane’s shoulders stiffened as they approached the house. Piers was heading in first, his hold on Lucas’s feet and—

  Piers froze. No, not just froze. The guy seemed to slam into some kind of brick wall.

  “He can’t enter.” The Haitian. He pushed Piers out of the way and grabbed Lucas’s feet. “Too much of the beast inside. Wanting to break free, is he?”

  Piers growled. “I’m not letting you take—”

  “You know you’re losing control.” A woman’s voice rang out, lifting and rolling like the man’s. “How long will it be . . .” A small woman appeared, skin dark, her eyes blue—blind. Marie Dusean. “Before you lose yourself?”

  The breeze was back, stronger now.

  Marie turned her stare onto Dane. “You like the pain too much now.” She shook her head. “You won’t make it inside either. Not with the demon on your back.”

  What the hell?

  “You’ll have a choice,” she whispered to him. “Go back to the shadows and the screams, Dane, or—”

  Another man tried to shoulder him out of the way. His hold tightened on Lucas.

  “He’s dying,” Sarah whispered, her hands wrapping around his. “Just let her take him.”

  That blind stare of Marie’s was still on him. “Screams or sacrifice, Dane. Choose.”

  He let Lucas go.

  Marie’s men took Lucas inside. Sarah hurried after them. Fuck this, he was going, too. Dane barreled forward—

  And seemed to slam into the same invisible wall that Piers had hit.

  “Evil can’t cross my line,” Marie’s voice floated back to him.

  Line? He looked up, down—and saw the line of red dust. And wait—had she said evil? Dane glanced at Piers. Since when in the hell were they evil?

  Too much of the beast inside.

  His fist slammed into nothing, but it sure as shit felt like he’d just punched a solid wall.

  They lowered Lucas onto a table. Candles were placed at his feet, his head, and near his bound hands.

  “Why are you tying him down?” Sarah asked.

  “So he doesn’t kill us,” the Haitian—Maxime—said quietly.

  “He can barely move.” Wasn’t moving, “Why would you need to—”

  Marie threw a gray liquid onto Lucas. Her chants filled the room. The clouds left her eyes and the blue sharpened, too bright, glittering . . .

  A howl tore from Lucas. He arched up, nearly ripping his binds apart. Silver began to le
ak from the deep wounds on his body.

  “Hold him,” Maxime ordered.

  Sarah jumped forward. Her hands pressed down on Lucas’s chest. His eyes opened, burning as brightly as Marie’s, and they locked on her. “Sarah . . .” The broken rasp of his voice.

  “You’re okay,” she told him, talking quickly, babbling.

  “She’s getting the silver out, you’re going to be fine, you’re—”

  He sagged back against the table. His eyes still stared up at her, but he—he was gone.

  Dead?

  “Lucas?”

  He didn’t move.

  Sarah’s gaze flew up. Marie had her hands in the air, her chants came now, fast, but low. “What’s happening?” Sarah demanded.

  Marie kept chanting.

  “Dammit!” Sarah tore her hands away from Lucas.

  “What’s—”

  The binds snapped, and he surged off the table.

  “Hold him!” Maxime yelled.

  She turned back to him, but Lucas was already changing. The snap and crunch of bones filled her ears. His body convulsed, twisting, heaving, as fur burst over his skin.

  “Reach for the beast,” Marie said. “Control him.”

  Sarah took a breath and tried to find a psychic link with his wolf. Lucas?

  Pain hit her, tearing apart her insides, ripping, burning . . .

  Sarah fell to the floor.

  “Hold him,” Marie murmured. “Hold the spirits close, don’t let them go.”

  Spirits. The pain had tears leaking from her eyes. Shifters had two souls, two spirits inside of them. Man and beast. She could feel them both right then. The savage pain of the beast. The fury of the man. Both buffeting her.

  Lucas, stay with me.

  A small cloud appeared before her mouth, as if she were cold, and suddenly Sarah was shuddering because the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped about fifty degrees.

  “Hold him tighter,” Marie’s voice rose. “Don’t let go!”

  Did she mean hold him psychically? Hold him physically? Sarah forced herself to move, to crawl back to the table. The psychic link had broken because the wolf was gone and only the man remained. She grabbed his arm. Ice cold.

  Sarah tried to find his mind, but with the wolf gone, she couldn’t connect with him.

  “Will you bind to him?” Marie’s whisper floated to her.

  Sarah glanced up. Maxime was at her side. “What does that mean?”

  “If you want him to live, you bind.” Marie grabbed her left hand. Stretched it out and turned her wrist up. “Do you bind?”

  If it meant Lucas lived, then . . . “Y-yes.”

  Maxime yanked out a knife and slashed her exposed flesh. Sarah didn’t even have enough breath to scream right then.

  “He lives . . . that’s what you want?”

  Why the hell was Marie asking that? Wasn’t it obvious? “Yes!”

  “You live, he lives . . .”

  Marie’s fingers smeared the blood over Sarah’s arm. Then the mambo lifted her blood-stained fingers into the air and seemed to paint letters. “He dies . . .”

  No!

  The bright blue of Marie’s eyes began to fade. “Then you die.”

  All of the candles sputtered out. The darkness swept over her, and the last sound Sarah heard was the growl of a wolf.

  The figures in white slowly filed out of the dark house. Marie led the line, her hair a veil around her face. Dane tensed when he saw her. He could almost feel the power crackling in the air around her.

  “Did he make it?” Piers voiced his obvious fear.

  Marie stopped and spared him a glance. “Death wanted him.”

  Fuck. Lucas had pulled his ass right out of hell before and he’d let the alpha . . .

  “But your wolf fought back.” Her eyes looked right through them. “Had to bind the souls. Life and death will follow, but for now . . . they live.”

  They? The wolf and the man?

  Marie shook her head. “He has a weakness. One that could destroy him. Sometimes . . .” She waved her hand in the air, and the big Haitian at her back stumbled, then seemed to topple onto the porch. “We just delay Death. We don’t stop him.”

  The Haitian was on the ground now. Not moving. Eyes wide open.

  “What the hell did you do to him?” Dane asked, voice tight.

  The delicate woman that he’d seen before hit the ground next. Her braided hair spread behind her like a halo.

  Shit. It looked like the mambo was killing her own people. Dane’s claws burst through his skin.

  “Easy, wolf.” Marie’s head lowered as she stared at the man. Then the woman. “They did their service to me, so I was keeping my end of the deal.” Her hand hovered over the Haitian. “I didn’t raise them, but I am setting them free.”

  The Haitian’s body stiffened as a fast rigor set in, the way it usually did when a vampire got staked. But wait, this guy wasn’t a vamp. Dane hadn’t caught the vamp scent on him.

  But now the scent of death and decay—several days old—hung in the air.

  Marie’s head lifted. “You’ll find them inside. Watch over them until dawn. Be ready for the betrayal and the choice, Dane.”

  Piers was staring at the woman with the braided hair. Her body had tensed with rigor as well. The woman who’d been walking around seconds ago now looked like a corpse. “Sonofabitch,” Piers whispered. “What was she? A damn zombie?”

  Marie didn’t look at Piers. “Remember what I say,” she told Dane. “Screams and pain or sacrifice.”

  Hell of a choice.

  “And you’re not the only one who’ll make it.” She turned away. Walked slowly down the porch and across the yard. Her attendants—the ones still alive, anyway—followed close behind her.

  Dane didn’t speak until the group had cleared the porch.

  “What the fuck?” Piers grabbed his arm. “Is Lucas alive or—” His hand jerked toward the dead bodies. “Or is he like these poor bastards?”

  Like puppets on a string—with a string that could be cut any moment. Because he’d heard about cases like this, and Piers had been right . . . zombies. Or, as close as reality could come to the zombie nightmare.

  Dane sucked in a breath and tasted death. “He’s alive.” Because he had a sick feeling in his gut. One that told him exactly what Marie had done to Lucas.

  Weakness.

  He crept toward the Haitian’s body. Other than his skin already taking on a chalky appearance, he looked unharmed. How had he died? How had—

  Dane’s eye narrowed on the white scarf around his neck. Both the Haitian and the woman had the scarves. Dane’s fingers lifted and latched onto the soft fabric of the scarf. He tugged lightly . . . shit.

  The man’s throat had been ripped open. The scarf had hid the wound, but—ripped open.

  “One of ours?” Piers asked from behind him.

  Dane’s claws hovered over the wounds. “Shifter . . . can’t say for sure if it was wolf.” But his gut told him it was. He glanced up at Piers. “If a wolf killed her man, why would she—”

  “You sure she saved him?” Piers charged for the door. Dane expected him to slam into that invisible wall again, but Piers ran right inside. Dane followed him, rushing forward. His shoes brushed against the loose dirt near the door. The line he’d noticed before. But now, a huge chunk of that dirt had been cleared away. Like a path had been opened.

  The hair on his nape rose but Dane kept going. Lucas was in there, and he’d damn well better not be the living dead.

  “Here!” Piers’s shout had him turning to the left. The candles were sputtering out, but his shifter vision let him see clearly. He hurried down the hallway, darted into the room, and saw them on the table.

  Blood pooled beneath them. Lucas was on the table, Sarah on top of him. Her hair covered his face, and her arms hung limply, her fingertips nearly brushing that pool of blood.

  They looked dead but he could hear—

  Thump. Thump. br />
  Their hearts. Beating in near perfect time with each other.

  He has a weakness.

  “Let’s get them out of here,” Piers muttered. “This place, man, it’s creeping me out.”

  Dane hurried forward and reached for Sarah. He pulled her up against him, and her head sagged forward. The woman was out. Lucas was in no better shape. His eyes didn’t open when Piers shook him. His slow breathing didn’t change. But the gaping wounds on his stomach appeared smaller.

  Piers inhaled. “You smell that?” He looked down at the bloody floor. “Silver.”

  No mistaking that metallic scent. “Looks like Marie got it out of him.” The relief was obvious in his voice. He hefted Sarah higher against his chest. They needed to leave. Marie had said Lucas and Sarah would be weak until dawn.

  Piers wrapped one of Lucas’s arms around his neck and lifted the alpha.

  “I can . . . walk . . .” Lucas’s faint growl, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  Piers froze. “Alpha, you back?”

  A grim nod. His eyes were still closed.

  “Damn man!” Piers burst out. “You scared the hell out of us! We thought you were dead when that silver got—”

  “I was.” His eyes opened now, faded blue. For an instant, his eyes looked just like Marie’s. Then he blinked and the color deepened a bit. Became more like Lucas.

  Piers’s eyes widened. “You . . . what?”

  “Ask me . . . about it . . . another time . . .” His eyelids began to sag. “Now let’s get . . . out . . .”

  That sounded like one fine plan to Dane. He tightened his hold on Sarah—her eyes were still closed, her heart still drumming slowly—and hurried out of that dark room. When they hit the porch, the two bodies were gone, as if they’d never been there.

  The night was quiet. Too quiet. They climbed into the van. Lucas looked pale, but he was with them, dammit. And as soon as the alpha got settled into the back of the van, Lucas reached for Sarah.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Piers wanted to know.

  Dane gunned the engine.

  “Keep her.” Lucas’s quiet response. Dane glanced in the mirror and saw Lucas gently brushing back Sarah’s hair. The alpha? Gentle? What. The. Hell.

  “But we can’t trust her. After tonight, after what happened . . .” Piers heaved out a breath. “Man, I’ve got to tell you what she—”